Counting Stars
by skeletalshock
Summary: Many a times, different people are brought together for the same reason. In the year 1962, a group of mutants come together to form a new Division for the impending war; where they will learn, bond, experience and forgive. X-Men: First Class; Charles/OC
1. Prologue: Something Special

First and foremost, before I go on about anything to do with the story, I have to say this:

X-Men: First Class has pretty much topped my all-time favourite Marvel movie list.

The plot is amazing, the characters and the use of American history in it. Absolutely amazing.  
>Also, I gotta say, I never imagined Professor X and Magneto could be such good looking chaps when they were younger.<p>

**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own any character/plot from the movie you recognize. But what I do own is my characters and everything else regarding them._

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><p>There were three major points in Poppy Hathaway's life where she knew she wasn't normal.<p>

Up until the age of 7, she had always believed herself to be like every other person out there.

Perhaps, except for her name, for not many girls at that time were named after a flower, especially one that was widely regarded for its hypnagogic properties. There were many Mary, Barbara, Betties and Nancy on the street.

But Poppy?

She was the only one in the whole neighbourhood with a name like that.

Despite her slightly eccentric name, however, Poppy Hathaway was still a normal girl with a normal life and an equally normal personality.

She went to school like every other child her age. She brushed her teeth and visited the dentist no matter how much she hated them. She had a sleep curfew. She, like the others, threw hissy fits over not being able to watch their favourite cartoons or buy the newest dolls displayed on the shelves in the mall. Like other girls her age, Poppy loved playing with her mother's make-up, loved dressing up and loved having tea parties with her favourite soft toys.

Poppy was just like everyone else – she ate, she played, she laughed, she breathed.

_She was normal. _

That was, until she was 7 years old.

On the day before the eve of her 7th birthday, Mr. and Mrs Hathaway had thought it would have been a wonderful idea for the whole family to take a trip to downtown Seattle where the annual carnival was currently held. Each year, the carnival company, Mister Ringo, would hold a two-day three-night event of cotton candy, popcorn, fireworks, flashing bright lights and thrilling rides for the folks of the Bay side. Hundreds, and even thousands on a good weekend, would flock to the event in hopes of experiencing the merry ambience or to collect various toys and souvenirs for themselves.

It was going to be the best birthday the young Hathaway ever had. And it would have been, if only the Hathaway's had made it to the carnival like they had planned.

All Poppy could remember from that night were mere flash glimpses. She recalled her parents singing along to Bing Crosby while she played with the rag doll her grandmother, or 'Nana' as she had affectionately dubbed her, had made. Everything else that happened after was just a flash of bright lights, accompanied with her mother's piercing scream and a heavy weight being thrown upon her small body.

_Poppy trembled from underneath the weight pressing against her._

_Her large green eyes scanned the wrecked surrounding as it dart from side to side quickly, her pupils now dilated due to the amount of fear she's experiencing from the encounter. All she could remember was the playing music tape, the sudden bright lights and the horrible, loud noises. _

_And then, there was just silence._

_Using her little hands, Poppy pushed against the dead weight and began to slip her way out from under the confinements between the weight and the car seat. Her palms pressed against the warm and fleshy barrier hard when a loud, painful groan pierced the night air._

_Big, fat tears rolled down Poppy's face as she stilled her movements upon hearing the sound, before she moved again, more desperately this time, and succeeded in dislodging her small body from the confined space._

_When she looked up, she had come to realize the weight was actually her mother, who was now covered in blood, her wavy dark hair in complete disarray. Terrified, the 7 year old stilled her crying and started shaking her mother's right arm, which was in a better and less bloodier state than the other._

"_Momma!" Poppy cried, but all she got back was another groan, softer this time. "Momma, wake up!"_

_The sense of loneliness filled Poppy as she continued shaking her mother's arm, harder and harder until she gave up with a loud sob. Pushing herself from her spot, she then reached over to the driver's seat, where another body was. Mr Hathaway was hunched over the steering wheel with his hands hanging limply beside his unconscious body. Pieces of glass littered his blonde hair and there was a fresh blood wound marked painfully on his temple._

"_Daddy!" The little Hathaway shook her father's arm vigorously. "Daddy, I'm scared. Wake up."_

_Poppy looked out the shattered window to see another car on the other side of the road, facing them. Its front bumper was knocked off and pieces of glass from the shattered windshield decorated the black tar road. A body – a man, Poppy noticed, was thrown halfway out of the broken windshield, his upper torso strewn against the hood of the car like a dummy._

_Slipping into the backseat again, Poppy attempted to rouse her mother once more. Her hands shook Mrs Hathaway's arm hard, as her cries got louder and more desperate. Sweat beaded on her forehead and rolled down the sides of her flushed face, but there was still no definite reply from her mother._

_A warm and tingly sensation filled Poppy's body, suddenly but slowly; the feeling not unwelcomed as compared to the chill of the night air. It spread from Poppy's chest all the way to the top of her head and to her Mary Janes clad feet, warming the freezing and terrified girl from an unknown source in her body. It was like the blood flowing through Poppy's veins was oil and a spark was lit somewhere deep inside her._

_As Poppy continued shaking her mother's limp form, a dim light emanated from her pudgy hands, as though she had a tiny little bulb implanted into the flesh of her palms. It was a dull yellow glow, one that seemingly brightened whiter with each pulse of the spot. As it brightened, the flare of the light grew bigger too, until it encompassed Poppy's and her mother's bodies in a single luminous light._

That incident left a mark on Poppy, both physically and mentally.

She was left with a scar that was identical to the one her mother had. One that was the same size, the same shape and at the exact same spot located on the two Hathaway's left shoulder blades. Albeit it wasn't that big of a wound – just a little short of two inches in length – it was deep enough to mark, thanks to the shard of windshield glass that had shattered during the impact.

But the bodily scar wasn't the only thing that had left its cut on Poppy.

The accident had changed her life.

She wasn't who she thought she was anymore.

No, she wasn't innocent little Poppy Hathaway, with her bouncy dark brown curls and sparkling green eyes anymore. The ever-strong fact that she thought she was like everyone else was thrown out of the window following the accident, and that shook the very foundation in Poppy's mind.

She was now something she couldn't explain nor understand. Something that she couldn't put a word to. Couldn't find an excuse as to why she was able to copy her mother's wounds onto her own body, nor could she find a plausible explanation as to why she was giving off light from her hands.

She was just that _something special_ – a little human girl with peculiar abilities. And that being unique, as her mother had simply put it, ran in the family, albeit in different ways. So she wasn't the only one who could do things normal people can't do.

_She wasn't alone._

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><p>YesNo?

Do drop me a comment! I'll really appreciate it. It's always nice to know if you guys like/hate it :)


	2. Stardust

Sorry 'bout the lack of update, guys.

I've been experiencing a megabrainfart despite the fact that I'm so so so inspired, have so so so many ideas and is so so so motivated by you guys.  
>As you can see it resulted in me penning down this chapter that I ultimately dislike.<br>It's messy and the ending is crap.

_Please try not to hold it against me :)_

I promise you, the next chapter will be better. (Perhaps it's because Charles and Erik are entering the story, finally)

Also, you guys don't know how glad I am when I check my e-mail to see so many reviews, alerts and favourites!  
>They truly made my day and has motivated me to begin the next chapter. (it's already halfway done)<p>

I'm glad many of you liked it! But please, if there is anything, anything at all, that I can improve on,  
>feel free to tell me :)<p>

Dedicated to my lovely reviewers:  
><strong>night-star-93, Aeleita, algie888, actressen, PadmeKenobi, Gio, X. Creature. X. EnchainedX, lilyoftheval5, envision2435, Amethyst Phoenix, Haley Tran and Scottishgal12<strong>

****Disclaimer:****_ I don't own any character/plot from the movie you recognize. But what I do own is my characters and everything else regarding them._

love,

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><p>Little Poppy Hathaway wasn't so little anymore.<p>

The adorable little girl who always had her dark hair tied up in braids by her mother and who loved having tea parties with her friends was now all grown up.

The dolls she played with were now locked away into a old box in the attic of her current Bostonian home, while the friends she had had ever since kindergarten school were all lost in contact. She stopped playing with her mother's make-up and clothes too for she now had her own cosmetics filled vanity table and a packed closet to dress up in.

In her place – the place of an innocent young child who held nothing but curiosity towards the world and everyone else – now stood a young lady.

A decent young woman with thick dark hair set in gentle waves framing her oval shaped face with a set of elegantly crafted high cheekbones – finally visible after the chubbiness from her adolescence and teenage years was lost.

Thanks to her mother's half-Italian heritage, Poppy was blessed with a head of thick, shiny dark brown hair and bold, expressive eyebrows that contrasted shockingly with her fair porcelain skin. She had, however, inherited her Irish father's eyes; a pair of peepers in a light grayish Celadon green shade instead of her mother's dark brown orbs.

The spirit of an extroverted, blunt and free spirited Poppy Hathaway was now kept locked away, with the ragged dolls in her attic. The older her was quieter, more sensitive with a heart filled with unspoken thoughts, memories and emotions; a far cry from who she was as a child.

It is because as people grew older, they lose sight of things but in turn gained many others.

Poppy Hathaway at the age of seven was innocent, naïve, trusting and honest. She believed what her mother told her about the stars and the people and that each and every one of them living, breathing on this planet had a part of them that came from heaven.

"_Did you know, sweetheart, that we are all stardust?" Mrs Hathaway asked as she was brushing out Poppy's hair and preparing her for bedtime._

_Poppy's head snapped up from the button on her pajamas she was fiddling with and grinned. "Really?"_

_Mrs Hathaway nodded her head and set the brush aside. "Yes, really. Each and every single one of us, we're all miracles. We have a little piece of heaven inside of us. A little piece of something magical, something beautiful and something wonderful. This is why we have dreams, my dear."_

"_But what about bad dreams?"_

_The young mother smiled and patted her daughter on her head._

"_They happen because many of us forget we're that something wonderful, and we let the bad stuffs fill our minds and hearts." Mrs Hathaway explained before bending down to press a kiss on the top of Poppy's head. "And that some of us –" she added with a knowing grin. "Forget too, that we can't have too many candies before bed."_

_Poppy giggled before taking off for her bed, leaving her mother chuckling behind her._

She believed what her father told her about Santa too, which was why she was always on her best behaviour during the last months of the year and why she always left a plate of freshly baked cookies and a glass of cold milk out for the gift-bearing old man on the eve of Christmas in hopes of getting more presents.

Those were some of the _many_ things she believed in as a little girl, because Poppy didn't think anyone would have a reason to lie.

It was a time when she still spoke her mind freely, when she broadcasted her honest opinions with no sugarcoating and no kind words. If something was ugly, it was ugly. It wasn't going to be 'alright' or 'could be better' or 'decent' to Poppy.

It was just what it was; because she did not see the point in hiding her true feelings and thoughts.

When Poppy's best friend, Sandra O'Malley, had turned up at school one day in a ghastly pink dress with huge spotted horses splattered onto it accompanied with a wide umbrella skirt, Poppy immediately pulled her to their little spot by the school's swing set because her mother – the sweet, polite and ever so thoughtful Mrs Hathaway – always said: to be honest with someone in front of others is an insult, so the truth should always be said in private.

"_I'm sorry Sandy."_ She had said with an apologetic smile first before telling her blonde friend Poppy's straightforward opinion in her unique fashion choices. _"But your dress is ugly. You look like a cupcake from the local pony farm."_

And with those words, Sandra O'Malley promptly burst into tears, leaving Poppy perplexed, for she thought she was helping her friend by telling her the truth.

James and Rose Hathaway could never looked more proud of their daughter at the moment when she had given her explanation for her harsh words to Sandra. Even though the principal had told Rose sternly, to be careful with her words in teaching Poppy values (which evidently got James riled up at the balding headmaster's insinuation), the matron of the Hathaway household had never looked _so pleased_ with her daughter for ending up in the principal's office.

But that was when she was still a little girl.

When James and Rose found out about Poppy's ability, they feared _for_ her. They did not fear her like many others would, no. Instead, they loved her even more because their little girl was different, special.

_Gifted._

But as accepting about their daughter for what she is as they are, it didn't mean the others would be as receiving. In such a judgmental world they live in, they were afraid of what others would do to Poppy should they find out about her abilities. They were afraid of the names they would call their daughter; afraid of the looks they would cast upon their little girl; afraid of the taunts and social abuse she would receive.

Poppy was still too young for that, and opening her up to such emotional abuse at this age was only going to traumatize her in years to come. Rose was not going to expose her daughter to what misery she had undergone during her childhood.

As a result, they forced her to keep reticent about her power, and made her promise not to tell or even show anyone, under any circumstances.

And Poppy did just that.

She remained tightlipped about it, never telling or showing anyone even though the desire to burned strong. She couldn't understand why her parents had made her swear to keep it under wraps even though she wanted to show it to Sandra. Mrs Kingston, Poppy's teacher, did say sharing was caring. So why did her parents made sharing something like that sound so wrong? Like as though she was accepting a stranger's candies, or as though she had ran away to the playground without informing her mother.

Poppy remained mum about the whole issue, and even when her parents passed away when she was 16, she still kept true to her promise.

Now, James and Rose Hathaway's untimely deaths were the second major change in Poppy's life.

It threw her into a standstill with their sudden deaths, leaving her lost and confused about what to do. Leaving her with nothing except for a nice house and a fat bank account. Leaving her with thoughts that she had never experienced before; leaving her with the deepest and most intensive feelings she has ever felt.

Most importantly, they left her alone in the world with a secret she did not know what to do about.

The words 'I truly am alone' echoed through her mind repeatedly during the two days after they were gone. It had become some sort of a permanent chant, and slowly, Poppy was starting to believe it.

That was, until her maternal grandparents – her Nana Elia and Papa Henry – came to the hospital and whisked her away to their home in Boston, the city where she was going to start life afresh without her parents.

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><p>Messy ain't it?<p> 


	3. Blue Eyes

So here's our favourite mutant duo - Charles and Erik.  
>I'll make it up to all the CharlesErik fan in the next chapter for their brief appearance in this.

Having said that though, I won't be uploading the next chapter as fast as I did with this one. I'll be a little busy for the next few days, but I've already got a good head start on the new one.  
>Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter (my longest yet!)!<p>

As usual, my motivators are all of you who took the time to read this, review and favourite this story. I always get this warm, fuzzy feeling whenever I see a new e-mail in my inbox from a new subscriber, reviewer and favouriter. They make me so happy  
>Special shout outs to:<p>

**lilyoftheval5, KitchenCupboard, Alice B. Cahill, Amethyst Phoenix, Gloo1997, Padme Kenobi, Haley Tran **(apologies for not giving you guys a clear view of Poppy's abilities. I'm hoping this chapter cleared that up for you :))**, TheMagiciansGrace and Lisa Marie M.**

****Disclaimer:****_ I don't own any character/plot from the movie you recognize. But what I do own is my characters and everything else regarding them._

much love,

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><p>It was now late May of 1962, the month with the most unpredictable of climates in the city of Boston.<p>

"_Boston's weather is as fickle and ever changing as a lady's mind."_

That was what Poppy's grandfather, Henry Cole, had told her that morning as she prepared to leave for work as an Art and English teacher at Woodworth's Elementary School.

Following the heavy snowfall during the end of March through to the middle of April, was a series of torrential downpours, causing many Bostonians to bemoan Heaven for its temperamental weather. Snow shovels are finally put away into the darkest corner of the shed where they would not see light until the end of the year while the unused umbrellas were pulled out of their resting places for a battle with the pelting rain. The downpours lasted for two long weeks, before it ended rather abruptly on a cold Thursday morning and the first rays of the Sun was finally allowed to peek through the gloomy storm clouds.

She was putting away the umbrella that had been her companion to work for the past two weeks when Henry urged her to bring it along with her, because there would most likely be a downpour in the afternoon.

"_Rain?" Poppy exclaimed, staring at her grandfather. "The weather forecast said it's going to be sunny all week long, Papa. And they've been right about the climate for the past two months."_

"_The weather forecasts don't have metal rods screwed into their legs, do they?" Henry retorted indignantly. His legs that had been damaged during the First World War had and always will be a sore issue for him. "Just bring the brolly along, dear. Your grandmother wouldn't like it very much if you came home wet as a ducky."_

_Poppy sighed at the mention of her grandfather's supposedly rain-sensitive legs again and grabbed her bag off the bag hook before turning towards the door. "I'm off to work, Papa. Seeya later, love you!"_

Peering out at the gloomy dark clouds that were now obscuring the once bright Boston skies, Poppy sighed, realizing her grandfather (or really, her grandfather's _legs_) had been right about the weather.

_Again._

Poppy sighed once more and made another absentminded promise that she was going to listen to her grandfather the next time. She hated seeing the 'I told you so' expression on his face whenever he proved her wrong. Those looks, however, happened often, for Poppy was as stubborn a mule as a young lady could be, and hardly listened to what her grandparents always told her.

Shaking her head in exasperation at her grandfather's antics, Poppy was about to go back and tidy up her cluttered desk littered with artworks by her class of 3rd Graders when a small lone figure sitting on the steps just outside the school's entrance caught her attention.

It was a mere glance of pale pink against the dark grey steps of the school, but it managed to capture the young woman's attention almost immediately. There, sitting with her pleated dress tucked over her scrawny knees was little Eleanor Wright from her 2nd Grade art class.

In the history of Poppy's experience as a teacher, which in itself was just a mere few months, Eleanor Wright had to take the top prize for being the quietest 7 year old she has ever met. The little blonde girl with those big, glassy grey eyes and flushed rosy cheeks was an incredibly shy and introverted girl. She mainly kept to herself in the corner seat of hers right at the back of the class, where she will remain silent through the whole day.

Never had Poppy seen her raising her hand to answer or ask a question. Many a times, Eleanor had been approached by the other children to colour with them, but all she did was shook her head and reclined back into her own corner quietly, leaving the students staring after her like as though she was a weird, new species.

Even during the half hour break where the students would storm out of their seats and run to the playground for the best swing, Eleanor would try to avoid the other children as best as she could, often waiting for everyone else to clear the classroom before she made her way out quietly.

It was like she _wanted_ to be isolated from everyone else.

Frowning at the sight, Poppy walked out of the classroom quickly, abandoning her desk for later. The hallways of the school were near empty except for the few teachers still gathering their things in the various classrooms and offices. The dark haired teacher grimaced when she passed by Mr Smith and muttered a hasty greeting before walking briskly towards the building, not giving the creepy man a chance to form a reply.

Ever since Poppy joined the school as a new member of their faculty, she couldn't help but feel that the elementary math teacher was always staring at her when he had the chance. She could still remember the first time she caught him doing it.

They had been the only two left in the teacher's office that day for it was a Friday, and many other staffs had already left for their weekend plans. Poppy was still grading her student's English assignments when she looked up to take a breather from the amount of red markings on David Linard's paper. Just as her weary green eyes glanced over the edge of her short cubicle separator, she met the penetrating gaze of one Mr Andrew Smith from across the room, where he had been clearly staring at her for he had not given any indication of looking away.

A shudder wracked down Poppy's spine at the unwanted memory just as she reached the large double door entrance of the school. A cold chill blew through the courtyard of the school, sending the piles of dried leaves the caretaker had swept out in the morning fluttering around the school ground. Poppy fiddled with the edge of the cream knitted beanie her grandmother had knitted for her last winter before starting towards the lone figure.

"Eleanor?"

The 7 year old snapped her head up from the spot she had been staring at; surprise etched evidently on her pale face as she turned to Poppy with large marble like grey eyes.

"Why are you still here, sweetie?" Poppy asked, bending down to place a gentle hand on the little girl's shoulders.

Eleanor remained silent; her pale rosebud lips pursed tightly.

Poppy kneeled down on the step above where the little girl was seated, and was going to attempt to get a verbal answer out of her when her eyes caught sight of something shockingly red against her dress.

"Oh dear god, you're hurt!" The young teacher exclaimed as her green eyes zeroed in on the wet patch of blood staining the hem of Eleanor's dress, where she had pulled over her left kneecap. Eleanor grimaced noticeably when Poppy pulled the skirt of her dress up slowly, revealing the fresh abrasion that was still oozing fresh blood through its open cut.

"Come on, up you get." Poppy instructed as she pulled her student into a standing position gently before directing her onto the bench sitting against the brick wall of the school slowly. The old iron wrought bench creaked loudly under the sudden weight of both the two combined, leaving Poppy wondering if it could actually hold their weight.

"Eleanor sweetie, why didn't you come to me immediately when you got hurt?" Poppy admonished as she pulled out a pack of tissue paper from her skirt pocket and proceeded to wet it with the water bottle in Eleanor's bag. Her hands brought the little girl's scraped leg closer to her before placing it on her lap gingerly.

"It's going to hurt a little when I clean out all the bad things," She warned just as an idea pop into her head. "Close your eyes, dear."

Eleanor frowned in confusion at her teacher's weird request, her light brows lowering over her grey eyes as she eyed the woman before her skeptically.

"Go on," Poppy implored. "Close your eyes. My mother always said it'd hurt less if I close my eyes when she patches me up. You don't want it to hurt, do you now?"

Hesitantly, Eleanor's eyelids fluttered over her eyes before closing them, obscuring her sight completely. Her small hands gripped the edge of the bench tightly at the thought of not knowing what her teacher was going to do to her stinging cut

As Poppy placed the wet tissue pad over her wound, Eleanor jumped from the sudden sensation, and whimpered when her teacher brushed over a particularly raw area. For the next two minutes, Poppy continued cleaning out the little girl's wound thoroughly, before discarding the dirtied tissue pad beside her.

Silently, she thanked Heavens above that she had chosen to wear a hat today and moved to make sure she had all her hair tucked under the beanie before rubbing her cold hands together out of a habit she had picked up years before.

"We're just about done," she declared, watching as Eleanor's eyes flickered under her thin eyelids. "Keep your eyes closed for just a bit longer, alright?"

Eleanor frowned but nodded her head curtly, deciding not to risk her curiosity for unnecessary pain.

Satisfied with her reply, Poppy then turned around to inspect the environment, making sure that there was no one in the vicinity that could see what she was going to do next. She wasn't going to risk someone chancing upon her using her powers, even if she had half a chance in making them forget what they just saw.

She couldn't risk letting others know what she could do because of what her grandmother had told her about her mother. About what her mother could do and the type of emotional abuse she experienced as a young child.

She didn't think the world was going to be accepting of people like her and her mother just yet.

Especially now, when the menacing clouds of a pending nuclear war between the United States and the Soviet Union hung threateningly over everyone's lives. Should special people, people such as Poppy reveal themselves with what they could do and their powerful abilities, normal people would easily see them as a threat for their advantages over them.

And human's natural instincts towards potential threats were always hostility.

Poppy wasn't ready for that yet.

She wasn't ready for all the mean looks and harsh names. For all the ostracizing and the immediate spotlight she would be cast in.

She wasn't ready.

She didn't think she was ever going to be ready to be _feared_ and _rejected_ by her own kind.

Casting that thought aside, Poppy placed her right hand over the fresh cut on Eleanor's knee, hovering her palm right above it but not touching it. Her eyes closed in concentration as she waited with bated breath for the familiar feeling to spread through her body.

It was only seconds later when the tingling, warm sensation that started out just as she was using her powers overtook her senses, sending a pleasant tickle through her chilled body. The area around her right hand dimmed ever so slowly as the toasty tendrils of light she had absorbed diffused through her veins and into her blood stream.

As quickly as the surroundings of her hand had dimmed dark, they were instantly brightened again, in a flash of white radiance that wrapped Poppy's right hand and Eleanor's scraped kneecap up into an incandescent glowing cocoon.

The tendril of dark brown fringe Poppy had left out of her beanie seemed to grow lighter and lighter from its roots to the tips – washing out from a dark brown, to a light ash brown and finally fading to a pale blonde colour that seemed to give off an iridescent splendour.

The glow that surrounded Poppy's form lasted but a minute or so before fading out slowly, as if it was seeping into the surroundings, blending into the natural air as though it had always been a part of it.

When the last of the tingling sensation had left Poppy's body and her hand that was hovering over Eleanor's knee had stopped glowing, she quickly pulled a flesh colour band-aid out of her pocket (a habit she had taken up soon after a week of teaching some hyperactive 2nd Graders) and quickly tore the paper off before sticking it over where the abrasion was.

Or over where the abrasion _used_ to be.

Instead of the messy wound Poppy had just being cleaning out before, there was nothing. Nothing except smooth, creamy, unblemished skin – no wound, no blood, there wasn't even a scrap of skin out of place.

"There! All done,"

Eleanor opened her eyes gradually and peered down at the place where her scrape was, only to see a big, round band-aid covering it. Her thin fingers rubbed at the medical dressing gingerly, only to find that there was no pain at all. Her eyes snapped up to her teacher in surprise, leaving the unasked question of 'How?' hanging in the air without words.

Poppy merely smiled as she reached for another piece of tissue to clean out the dried bloodstain on Eleanor's dress. "Mothers are always right, aren't they?"

She then proceeded to rub at the stained spot with the damp tissue while Eleanor settled for simply watching her quietly as she worked.

"Ellie," The little girl looked up from the fingers that had been fumbling with her dress at the sound of her name and stared at Poppy. "Could you tell me how you scraped your knee? Please?"

_Silence._

"Did someone push you down, dea –"

"Ellie!"

Both student and teacher whipped their head towards the direction of the breathless call, their eyes wide in astonishment at the loud name piercing through the thick silence sharply.

A woman was hurrying towards the two, walking briskly across the courtyard while her hands fumbled to get a good grip on her handbag that was swinging wildly off her shoulder. The clacking of her bright yellow pumps echoed through the area rhythmically as the two waited for the newly arrival to reach them.

A professional working class lady in her early thirties, anyone could tell from her perfectly coiffed blond hair, her impeccably made up face and that sharp pressed shift dress she was wearing that Mrs May Wright was always dressed to impress.

"I am so sorry," Mrs Wright had blurted aloud apologetically as soon as she neared her daughter and the art teacher. "I was held up at work."

Poppy smiled and stood up from the bench, reaching out a hand to shake the flustered mother's hand politely.

"It was no problem, Mrs Wright." She said. "I was just patching Eleanor's knee up before you arrived."

Mrs Wright's eyes immediately zoomed in on her daughter's legs, her pretty face going taut at the mere idea of her daughter getting hurt. "What happened?"

"It seems Eleanor's taken a tumble." Poppy said, frowning down at her student, who was now staring at the tiled ground as though it was something interesting. The teacher's voice dropped significantly to an audible whisper as she voiced her concerns. "She refuses to tell me what happened."

Poppy looked back up at Mrs Wright. "I was hoping perhaps you could talk to her. I'm worried about her progress in class. Socially."

"Eleanor's a wonderful child with a strong talent in art, but she hasn't been interacting much with her classmates."

"I see." Mrs Wright pursed her red lips and brought her hands up to rest on her daughter's shoulders. "I'll have a good talk with her when I get home. Thank you for helping her clean out the cut."

"No worries." Poppy nodded her head and smiled. Bending down to Eleanor's height, she patted the little girl on her head gently. "I'll see you in school next week, then!"

With that, the Wrights turned and made their way for the huge gates of the Elementary school, stopping only once so Mrs Wright could open the door to the car that was waiting outside.

A tinge of short, sharp pain shot up from Poppy's left leg, causing her to wince just that slightly before she lowered herself back onto the rusty, squeaky bench. Gently, she pulled the hem of her skirt up and over her kneecap, taking care not to brush it against the sore spot, and bunched it in her lap.

There, stretched across the top of her left knee was an angry red scratch; identical to the one Eleanor had etched on her leg not long before. It wasn't bleeding nor was it swollen; it just looked as if the scratch was hidden underneath the skin.

Poppy gave the tender spot a gentle rub before turning to gather all the rubbish that was strewn on the bench beside her. So involved she was in picking up the waste papers that she failed to see the two new arrivals joining her at the front of the school's entrance.

"That was a spectacular trick, Miss Hathaway."

Poppy froze.

She took a short, sharp intake of breath in surprise and gulped at the words and their implications.

Her hands halted over the band-aid wrapper she was about to pick up.

Her heart squeezed tightly at the disembodied voice.

Her eyes widened; black pupils dilated from the sudden fear that gripped her.

'_Okay, relax.'_ She told herself, breathing in deeply. _'Relax. Just pretend you don't know what he's saying.'_

Calmly, Poppy turned her head towards where the voice had come from, followed gingerly by her body as she pushed herself off of the bench, letting her skirt fall over her knees.

"I'm sorry?"

Her green eyes narrowed in mock confusion while she surveyed the two men standing before her quietly.

The taller of the two was now leaning against the stone railings of the school's entrance porch casually, his thick and muscled arms crossing themselves in front of his broad chest. Clad in a short navy trench coat over a pair of long, black pants and a black turtleneck, his perfectly slicked back hair was the ultimate factor that completed the dangerous, rugged look he was probably going for.

His pale icy blue eyes were fixed onto Poppy's wandering eyes unflinchingly, as a dark brow rose to mock her, to tell her that he had seen her appraising his impressive form.

'_Crap,' _she cursed, flustered.

Quickly, she pulled her stare away from the taller man and shifted it to the other one, now standing directly in front of her.

Unlike Mr Cold Eyes and his dark attire, this man was significantly more professional looking. With his sharp pressed cream blazer jacket, a white button up shirt worn inside with the top three buttons left open (Poppy really shouldn't be noticing these kind of things), the matching dark grey pants and his polished shoes, this guy pretty much screamed 'successful businessman'.

He, along with the other man had sharp masculine features – sharp noses, strong, angular jaw lines and dark brows. His short, dark hair was tousled casually, and it ruffled gently as a small breeze drafted through the courtyard.

His eyes, though blue as well, were on the other end of the spectrum from Mr Cold Eyes.

They were of a brighter, more radiant shade of blue. It was a clear blue colour, reminiscence of the Caribbean waters on a perfectly clear day. The type of blue that the ancient Mayans used in their historical artworks.

But it was more than just a flat azure shade.

The light blue of his eyes strengthened out gradually, such that there was a subtle gradient change in the colour. A ring of darker cornflower blue colour surrounded the iris, accompanied with dark bands of navy flecked across the diameter.

And unlike the steely emotionless gaze of Mr Cold Eyes, Mr Businessman's eyes were warm, friendly, genuine and _captivating_.

'_What is a man looking like _that_ doing with a man looking like he's an assassin?' _She thought, stealing another glance at Mr Cold Eyes. _'Bodyguard, probably?'_

She squirmed under the looks the two men were giving her.

Poppy couldn't decide whose was worst – Mr Cold Eyes' cold, flat, emotionless and mocking stare; or Mr Businessman's amused, piercing and perceptive gaze, like as though he knew something about her that she doesn't.

As though he could sense Poppy's discomfort, Mr Businessman let out a small cough and smiled at her.

"As I was saying before," His words were tinged with a slight English accent. "I must commend you on that marvelous trick you performed on that little girl, Poppy."

"_What?_" Poppy asked, earning herself an impatient grunt from Mr Cold Eyes. She ignored him. "Trick? What tri – "

'_Wait.' _Poppy thought. _'He knows my name.'_

Poppy narrowed her green eyes at the man, this time in real skepticism. "How do you know my name?"

Mr Businessman merely smiled and stretched out a hand for Poppy to shake. "I'm Charles Xavier."

"Erik Lehnsherr." Came the raspy, low voice of Mr Cold Eyes. He was still leaning against the railing like a marble statue; cold, hard and daunting.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It seems to me, that you've ignored my compliment as well."

Poppy tensed herself. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Erik pushed himself off of the railing and came to stand beside Charles, his arms still remained crossed in front of his torso. "Stop playing coy with us, little girl."

The elementary school teacher bristled as her green eyes flashed dark with anger. "I'm _twenty-four_, thank you very much."

"_Erik."_

Charles looked at his companion, warning clear in his blue eyes. He turned back to Poppy and frowned, deep lines etched into his fair forehead. Poppy decided being troubled wasn't a good look for him.

"We've seen what you can do, Miss."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Poppy retorted firmly, a strong tone of determination carved deep into her words of denial. Her celadon green eyes bored into Charles' blue orbs.

_Unmoving. Unblinking. Unflinching. _

The sides of her temple tingled, but she ignored it, knowing it was a part of the procedure.

"I bet you don't know what you're talking about too." She said just as those shiny black pupils centered in Poppy's eyes dilate ever so noticeably before returning to their original state.

They grew in size again, this time dilating such that for a split second, it covered the green in Poppy's eyes completely, leaving a black pool of emptiness in its place.

'_You don't know what you're talking about.'_

* * *

><p>Hope you like it :)<p> 


	4. Monstrosity

Hi, guys! I'm back! Finally took the time to finish this out even though it's sort of a filler.  
>The next chapter's halfway done now, so expect a new one soon ;)<p>

This chapter's more like a memory, an insight of Poppy's history. I know how sucky it is to read a filler but I'll try to hasten the plot from now on. It seems rather slow moving, doesn't it?

So, I'm really glad you guys loved the previous chapter! It was so so so satisfying to see the amount of reviews I've received. If you have a question or anything I can improve on, drop me a comment, I'll reply you for sure :)

Many many thanks :)

**summerinlove, Obscure Stranger, KitchenCupboard, night-star-93, Envision, Alice B. Cahill, PadmeKenobi, Haley Tran, lilyoftheval5, TheMagiciansGrace, Gio, juli 8D1819, Engage Ellen, X .xMay-Babeex. X, HuesOfGreenx, xXthe. , actressen **and **cakeface **3

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own any character/plot from the movie you recognize. But what I do own is my characters and everything else regarding them.__

love,

* * *

><p><em>A torrent of colourful profanities, one that would have put even the foulest of sailors to shame, flooded Poppy's mind.<em>

_Her shaking hands gripped the broken and abandoned baseball bat in her hands tightly, cringing whenever broken splinters from the wood pierced into the soft skin of her palm. A draft of cold night breeze sent a chill down Poppy's spine, causing her to tremble even more, as perspiration beaded on her cold forehead._

_She cursed again._

_If only she had taken the normal route home just now. If only she had listened to what her grandparents had always told her about the back alley route. If only she did not want to rush home for a slice of her grandmother's homemade strawberry meringue pie._

_If only she wasn't so bloody stubborn._

_Then, she wouldn't have had to fear for her life that was now at the mercy of the gun in the man's hand. _

_Her green eyes, now darkened slightly by the dim of the quiet back alley's light, stared hard at the two figures before her - one sobbing and the other snarling in menace. The girl, not much younger than Poppy's age of 18 cried hard as she was pressed against the dirtied wall by the arm holding onto her neck. Her face was white as a sheet and her form trembled visibly, even in the dark._

_The scurrying of rats among the heaps of trash was the only sound in the loud silence. This was precisely the reason why Nana Elia had reminded Poppy time after time about avoiding the back alley way home even though it was a much faster route. The deserted area was commonplace for numerous cases of mugging, murders and rape. It was even said to be haunted, by the souls of those whose lives were being snatched away right in that stretch of dark road._

"_Let – let her go," Poppy's demand came out in a soft stutter that was amplified in the silence of the empty backstreet._

_A loud snigger came from the mugger as he threw Poppy a careless glance. "Go away, little girl."_

_A sharp tinge of annoyance rose up somewhere in Poppy's chest and bubbled furiously in her blood at the belittling tone in his voice. If there was something that could challenge her famously known saint-like patience, it was the idea of being underestimated. _

_The insinuation that she was a weak, useless female because she felt she was absolutely nothing like that. _

_She hated being belittled._

_She hated it with a raw passion._

_Growling, Poppy took a step forward. Her patent shoes thudded loudly against the wet cement ground. "I said let her go."_

_The cocking of the gun in the man's hand was her only sound reply as his face turned towards the side to glare at her. An expression of the deepest annoyance was etched deep into the gruff features of his stubbled face._

"_If ya know what's best for ya," He snarled menacingly. "You'd turn away right now and run for your life."_

_Instead of giving the man a verbal reply, Poppy took another small step forwards. Her feet planted firmly on the ground, even though her hands were trembling under the possibility of getting shot by the man who was now pointing the gun right at her chest._

_Since he was having none of the 'tough girl, no nonsense' attitude, Poppy decided to go about getting him to stop what he was doing._

_Taking a deep breath, Poppy took another step forward. The man, now truly aggravated by her interference slapped the girl who he was holding onto before throwing her onto the mountain of trash in the corner roughly. A piercing cry of pain rang out through the silence, causing Poppy to cringe at the sheer terror and pain in it. The man turned towards her fully and held out the gun with both hands._

"_Stand back." He warned and placed his forefinger onto the trigger. "Or I'll shoot."_

"_You don't want to do this." Poppy placated, her voice now dropping into a mere whisper. "You know you don't want to."_

_The mugger was now shaking visibly as Poppy took another step towards him. "I SAID FUCKING STAND BACK!"_

_Poppy halted in her steps under one of the flickering wall lights and nodded her head, pacifying the distraught man. The glow of the light cast harsh, sharp shadows on the planes of her graceful features and lighting her eyes up into an amber shade._

"_Sir, please." She beseeched. "Drop the gun. You know you don't want to hurt us."_

_Her eyes stared unflinchingly into the man's dark orbs as they stared right back. Poppy's eyes watered painfully, but she held on; not blinking, not moving and barely breathing. _

_She was afraid that should she blink, the spell would have broken, and the man would have killed her in a single second with a simple pressure on the trigger. Just like that._

_A sharp prick of coldness pulsed in Poppy's temple, sending a numbing yet cooling sensation sweeping across her forehead. The watering in Poppy's eyes stopped and cleared soon after, leaving her with perfect, unaffected sight that had been blurred from the unshed tears before._

"_Please, drop the gun sir." She whispered. A pathetic whimper came from the girl cowering among the trash. "__**Please.**__"_

_As though under a trance, the man's armed hand slackened, and slowly but surely, he was lowering it, leaving it hanging limply beside his body. Then, the grip of his hand on the armed weapon dropped, letting the gun fall to the ground with a loud clatter._

"_That's right, sir." Poppy said, not once looking away from the man's eyes. Their gazes were locked into a silent battle, which could easily be broken should any of them looked away. 'You know you don't want to do this. You don't want to hurt anyone.'_

_As she said those words, Poppy's feet moved towards the gun and kicked it far away from the man, sending it into one of the trash bags against the wall._

_The man nodded his head curtly. A blank expression had taken its place on his face, wiping away any look of menace that had been carved deep into his features minutes before. "I don't want to do this."_

_Poppy nodded in agreement._

'_Go home,' The placating tone in Poppy's voice was now gone and replaced by a sharp, commanding force. 'Go home and forget about all these.'_

_Once again, the man nodded his head. His eyes still as dark, as unfocused and lifeless as before._

'_**Go.**__'_

_With that last sharp order, the man turned his head to the spot just pass Poppy's shoulders, as though there was something there – something mesmerizing, something enthralling, something like a prize. His right foot took a step forward, towards the invisible target, then his left, and his right again; until he was walking pass Poppy, out of the dark alley and out of sight in a monotonous march._

_With the man gone, the frigid tingle that had sought refuge in Poppy's head had ebbed away as well, leaving her befuddled and confused about what had just taken place._

_Had she really managed to convince a man, one who had been cocking a gun at her and threatening to shoot, to drop his weapon and go home?_

_It was illogical._

_Impossible._

_Absurd._

_That was, until a memory – one involving her Nana and her – broke though the mist of confusion and jumped out at Poppy's subconscious, providing a solid explanation as to what had just taken place._

_It wasn't illogical anymore._

_It was no longer impossible or absurd._

_Because she was just like her mother._

_Shaking her head, Poppy turned to the whimpering girl who was still cowering against the trash heaps, as though she had just remembered she was there. She gasped sharply at her inconsiderate nature and rushed towards her, throwing the bat she had been holding to the side carelessly. _

"_Are you al – "_

"_STAY AWAY FROM ME!"_

_Poppy's arms that had been stretched to offer the girl some help in standing up froze in mid air at her hysteric scream. The girl scurried away from Poppy frantically as though she was a horrible disease, a wild animal or a ferocious monster._

"_W-what?"_

"_What are you?" The girl cried as she gripped the openings in the wire fence behind her tightly to help herself up, ignoring Poppy's proffered arms._

_Once again, Poppy's vast knowledge in the English language failed her. _

"_What?"_

"_Y-You made him walk away." The girl whispered, now staring at Poppy with accusing eyes. "You made him do these things without talking to him."_

"_What are you talking about?" Poppy's heart raced. "I was talking to him! You heard me!"_

_The girl shook her head fervently and seemed to tremble more than ever. "All I heard was you telling him to drop the gun…"_

"_Look, I think you're in shock. Do you need me to call the amb – "_

"_Your eyes… Your eyes… they went black." The girl muttered. "They went black and back to normal and they… they turned black again."_

_Poppy took a step towards the girl again and held onto one of her arms. "Here, I'll take you ho – "_

"_I said stay away from me!" The girl cried and recoiled against the dirty brick walls. An expression of utmost fear was clearly displayed on her pale face. "You… __**You freak**__!"_

_Poppy recoiled at the hostile word that fell from the girl's quivering lips. Her arms fell back to their original spot beside her body as she simply just stood there and gaped at the girl. A sting, a small burning and arduous pain strike Poppy's heart like an arrow hitting the bullseyes. It was a pang of ache that surpasses all superficial wounds Poppy has ever experienced._

_She had saved her._

_Poppy had saved the girl from the potential of getting hurt, terribly hurt by the man._

_And yet she was calling her a freak – a monstrosity of her own kind._

_Like an anomaly. Like a white albinal lion. Like Victor Hugo's character Quasimodo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame._

_A__** freak**__._

_As Poppy was stunned into silence and immobility by the single word that still seemed to reverberate through the still night air, the girl took that as an outlet for her escape. And so, with a hard push against the brick wall, she took off. She ran away in a flurry of blue fabric and blonde hair and panicked, stuttering steps. She sprinted like she was escaping from a feral animal or a merciless and untamed monster, like her whole life depended on getting away from Poppy._

_It hurt. _

_It hurt more than Poppy could explain to see a girl like her running away from herself because she thought she would hurt her._

_Because she could do things normal people couldn't._

_She knew now, why her parents had made her promise, made her swore not to tell anyone about her ability._

_They were just trying to protect her._

* * *

><p>'<em>And now I have to protect myself,'<em>

The bitter memory faded into an empty, dark void as Poppy regained awareness of her surroundings. The dark of the old, back alley melted away into the empty school courtyard; the two figures in the vivid flashback now transformed into two men, both with brilliant blue eyes.

Her temples tingled again and black pupils dilated once more.

'_You don't know what you're talking about.'_ she pushed, determination coating her words thickly. _'You don't who Poppy Hathaway is.'_

The man, Charles Xavier, as he had introduced himself in an attempt to avoid her question stared right back at her, his brilliant azure eyes transfixed on her like a cat eyeing the cream.

The pupils in Poppy's jade eyes dilated once more as inky blackness covered her iris and the white of her eyes for a split second, before returning to their original size silently. _'You're going to walk away to your car and drive away. You're going to go home and forget about everything you've just said and saw.' _

Charles blue eyes glinted in the dim light of an overshadowed sky.

Then he smiled – a bright, genial grin that stretched from one rosy cheek to the other as straight, white teeth gleamed between his lips.

Poppy blinked, and the spell was broken.

"I'm afraid it'll be hard for me to forget about everything I've just said and saw, Miss." Charles declared, the beaming smile now replaced by a charming smirk. "You're pretty unforgettable, see."

"What the…"

'_You have your tricks, Poppy, and I have mine,'_

The young brunette took a step back in utter surprise, consternation and incredulity at the sound of his warm, affable voice resonating in her head. A small, sharp gasp escaped her gaping pink lips as a million jumbled thoughts whirled through her mind.

"You… you talked." She uttered, taking another step back, this time in uncertainty. Poppy looked between the two, confusion clouding her green eyes. "In my head. How?"

"Because I'm like you." Charles replied patiently and turned to Erik, who had been watching the exchange silently. "Because _we're_ like you."

Poppy took another step backwards.

They were like her.

They had abilities like her.

They were different too.

A sudden thrill flushed through her body, coursing through her bloodstream like the aftereffect of downing a shot of good, old tequila. Her heart thudded against her chest at the idea that these two people standing in front of her could do abnormal things like her.

As excited, as she was to meet her own kind, however, she was still cautious of them and their intentions. She had never met anyone who was unique like her before. And now, out of the blue, these two men stood in front of her.

Quite clearly, they had been looking for Poppy.

She narrowed her suspicious green eyes at the two like she did before. "What do you want with me?"

Both Charles and Erik seemed taken aback by the sudden guarded resonance in her smooth, soft voice. They had obviously not anticipated such a wary reception from her. It was a far cry from how she had dealt with her student when they first saw her.

"Is there anywhere, perhaps, where we could speak privately?" Charles asked as he glanced around at the open space surrounding them.

"I don't think so," Poppy retorted obstinately, crossing her slender arms across her chest. "How would I know if you two wouldn't try to hurt me?"

"What a paranoid little creature." Erik muttered with a dramatic roll of his cold blue eyes. Impatience was rolling off of him in waves and it was obvious that Poppy's stubbornness was the cause of his aggravation.

Poppy scowled up at him.

"You'll just have to trust us on that." The telepath replied, blatantly ignoring what his friend had commented. His eyes shone bright and were brimming with honesty. "It is of the utmost importance that we find somewhere away from prying ears or eyes. _Please._"

Just as he had said that, another pair of footsteps came to a stop just outside the school's entrance.

"Is everything alright, Miss Poppy?"

The nasally voice of one Andrew Smith called out from behind Charles and Erik as all three of them whirled around to face him.

"Oh… Andrew," Poppy faked a smile at the creepy math teacher.

Andrew eyed both Charles and Erik accusingly as a deep frown found a permanent refuge on his chubby face.

"They seemed to be bothering you…" Andrew pointed out. "Are they bothering you?"

Poppy paused.

Were they bothering her?

If she said they were, Andrew would force them to leave her alone before ushering her into the safety of the school compound then offering to give her a ride home (like he always does). But if she said they weren't, she would have to go along with two male strangers to hear what they had so desperately wanted to tell her.

And quite honestly, Poppy would rather hear what the two blue eyed (and good looking) strangers have got to say than to spend fifteen minutes in Andrew's old, mouldy and crusty ride.

She had accepted his offer for a ride home once, and like people always say: Once was truly enough.

Shaking off the image of the thousand and five germs infesting the vehicle, Poppy shook her head fervently in reply to Andrew's unanswered question.

"No, no. I promise, they're not." She said with a smile. "These are my uh…" She trailed off, unsure if it was appropriate for her to refer to the two strangers as her friends. "My acquaintances! Yes, my acquaintances – Charles and Erik."

Erik shot the young woman an amused smirk as his dark brow rose once again to mock her.

"We're just about to leave actually. Some catching up to do, y'know?" She gave a rather nervous chuckle.

Charles nodded in agreement, sensing the art teacher's discomfort. "It's best that we get going now, Poppy." He gave the silver chrome watch sitting on his wrist a gentle tap on its glass clock face. "Time stops for no one."

Pleased with his ability to play along with her, Poppy sent Charles a thankful smile, ignoring Erik for he had simply stood there to observe the situation like it was a daytime drama. She then turned to gather the remaining bits of trash left on the bench, before starting the walk back into the school so she could gather all her belongings.

"I'll see you in school next week, Andrew." She said, passing the math teacher, sparing him a short glance and a quick smile. "Have a good weekend now."

And with that hasty goodbye, Poppy turned and continued on her wake back to her classroom as Charles and Erik trailed behind her, silent but providing a very solid presence at the back.

"Sounds like a creep," Erik commented gruffly, breaking the silence, when he turned back to see Andrew staring after the three of them forlornly.

Poppy nodded in agreement. "Looks like one too."

"I have to say, that man is having some rather inappropriate thoughts right now."

"What?" Poppy froze in her hurried steps and inclined her head towards Charles curiously. "What kind of thoughts?"

Charles coughed into his hand awkwardly and looked away from Poppy's inquiring gaze. "I'm afraid it's too embarrassing for me to even say it – "

"Humour me."

A short pause followed before Charles coughed once again.

"He uhm, he loves the way you speak his name." Charles replied albeit hesitantly. Erik smothered a chuckle from beside him at his flushed face. He was obviously enjoying watching the telepath squirm. "And that uh, he wishes he could spend the weekends with you, in his be – "

"Okay!" Poppy interrupted again with a quick wave of her hand. "What a lovely story! Let's just get out of here, shall we? _Great!_"

And with that, the brunette turned away from the two and continued on her brisk walk, but not before allowing Charles and Erik to catch a glimpse of her glowing red cheeks.


	5. Hot Chocolate

It's been a while since my last update, I apologize for that. I've been rather busy these few days, and my mind's frazzled with the amount of things I've yet to do.

That, coupled with the fact that I've got the attention span of say, a goldfish, resulted in a late update.

But I've finally found time to sit down and really finish this up for you guys.  
>It's my longest chapter yet. I just can't seem to stop when I start typing :)<br>I stumbled upon _Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey_ a few days back and she was the perfect example of how I pictured Poppy to be. I've uploaded some pictures so do check it out. It's on my profile page.

Hope you guys enjoyed it! (and hope I didn't make Poppy out to sound too much like a ditz hehe)

**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own any character/plot from the movie you recognize. But what I do own is my characters and everything else regarding them._

Love,

* * *

><p>Charles and Erik shared a look between each other when Poppy guided them around yet another corner.<p>

Following their hasty exit from the school, Charles had offered Poppy a ride to the place where she felt most comfortable with them in, knowing she was still guarded towards Erik and him and their intentions for her.

She had declined and instead, told them that the place was within walking distance, giving them a choice to either follow her by foot or to track behind her in their car, though the latter was a little challenging judging from the traffic downtown.

So now, ten minutes and four streetlights later, the three were striding down the busy streets of downtown Boston, where it looked to be anywhere but private. People bustled about everywhere – the majority in suits and office wear as they rushed for their business appointments and meetings while others were strolling along with bags of purchase hanging off their arms.

"So, where are we going?"

Poppy turned to Erik at his question. "A café."

Charles frowned. Poppy noticed he seemed to be doing that often. "I don't think a publicly open coffee shop will be ideal for a private talk."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to the two friends with a wry grin. "My grandparents own it. Is that good enough for you?"

And with that, she spun on the balls of her heels again and continued on her brisk walk onwards, where the crowd was starting to dissipate slowly and they were entering a much quieter part of the district.

Shops lined the streets, offering various types of goods from everywhere. There was a rickety old shop selling antiques such as old gramophones, furniture and doll collections; a little store offering children's clothes, toys and books; and a deli offering traditional Italian cuisine. It was like a world inside a world, a quiet respite from the buzz of the city life for people who had gotten sick of all the constant motion and noise.

"We're here," Poppy announced as the three came to a stop outside a quaint looking café that sat between a bright bakery and a dingy record store. It had a rather simple design as compared to the bright signboards and flashy window displays of the other stores located around it. The simple black signboard of the store held classic gold letterings that spelt out the words **'Paradiso Café'**.

Steel wrought chairs and tables were scattered along the area outside the café where a handful of people were lounging on, each with their own cup of hot drink and a plate of pastry as they enjoyed the chilly afternoon air.

Two of the patrons, an elderly couple with wispy white hair and aged lines on their wizened faces smiled and called out to Poppy in greeting as she passed. Holding up a finger to Charles and Erik for a minute, she then walked off towards the couple's table.

"She doesn't look like the type who'd join the Division, Charles." Erik commented as they studied the way she conversed with the old lady. "She seems too nice and tender to be involved in a cause like ours."

"You know what they always say, friend." Charles replied just as Poppy bade the couple goodbye with a warm smile before walking back over towards them. "'Never judge a book by its cover.'"

"I'm trying to be serious here." Erik retorted, frowning at his ally. "This is a war we're talking about."

"And I'm serious too when I said that we've barely scratched the surface of that woman." Charles said.

When Poppy had tried to push her thoughts into him before, he could actually feel half the impulse of following through with what she had told him to do. But through the determination of wanting him to forget about what he had seen about her abilities, he could sense the emotions of pain, rejection and even managed to catch a glimpse of a dark alley from her guarded mind. Although her thoughts wasn't as walled up and as strongly protected, Charles still had a little trouble reading her full thoughts, and attributed it to a side reaction of her manipulating ability.

"C'mon," Poppy said once she reached the two, breaking their small argument and pushed the glass door open, sending the bell hanging above it into a twinkling frenzy.

An aromatic gush of freshly brewed coffee greeted the trio like a warm sea breeze in the summertime, accompanied by the sweet scents of chocolate, vanilla and caramel. The temperature was decidedly warmer in the café, not too hot but just right that it was cozy enough for the patrons to truly enjoy their shot of caffeine boost or their warm chocolate mud cake.

"Ah, Poppy!"

A cheery voice exclaimed loudly among the soothing swing melodies the radio was playing as they moved further into the shop. A petite lady with dark graying hair walked over with a tray of dirty cups and plates propped against her wide hips, and a huge affectionate smile. "How was your day, tesoro?"

"It was good, Nana." Poppy said and moved to give the slight lady a kiss on her weathered cheeks. The old lady gave a fond smile to Poppy as she took the tray of dishes from her without another word and walked off to place it on the dark wood counter, leaving her and the two mutants alone.

The warm smile slipped off her face while her dark brown eyes, that had been warm and kind when she regarded Poppy, turned sharp and scrutinizing as she studied the two men before her. Her bold eyebrow, the same one that Poppy had most obviously inherited from, rose in a slow and suspicious manner, leaving both Charles and Erik squirming quietly at her penetrating look.

"Nana!" Poppy chided when she came back over to the three and saw the look her grandmother had been giving her acquaintances. "Stop scaring them."

"We're not scared," Erik muttered, looking away from the portly lady's glare.

"You should be." The old lady sassed as her clenched fists came to rest on her hips rather bossily. Her Italian accent rang clear in her words of warning, giving her tone a threatening lilt.

"Nana!" Poppy chided again, this time with a look of warning in her green eyes. She shook her head in exasperation at her grandmother's and smiled apologetically at the two men.

Her grandmother was a wonderful lady with one of the kindest and most giving hearts anyone could ever find, but that did not mean she was as mild tempered as she looked with her wide, careless smile and her motherly demeanour. Ever since the death of her daughter and her husband, Poppy was the last and only kin she had had left, seeing as she had no other children. As a result of that, she had showered Poppy with all the love and care she could provide, and feared the day that she would have to leave her.

Thus, she regarded almost all males that Poppy knew as a potential threat to take her granddaughter away from her.

"These are my _friends_, Nan." At this, Poppy sent her grandmother a meaningful look, which she returned with one of faux innocence. "Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier."

"This," she said soon after, motioning to her grandmother. "Is my grandmother, Elia Cole."

Almost immediately, Charles stuck out his hand for Elia to shake as he beamed charmingly at the old lady. "Pleasure to meet you, M'am."

Elia's dark eyes regarded the outstretched hand skeptically, before finally giving into politeness and taking it in her own seasoned one and giving it a curt shake. A small blush even found its way onto her tanned cheeks against her own will as her defenses cracked at the man's charismatic smile.

'_Very nice,'_ Poppy thought sarcastically, knowing Charles could hear her. _'Just charm your way through, why don't you?'_

The telepath looked up to shoot her a small smirk discreetly as he relinquished his hold on her grandmother's hand.

"We'll be in the backroom," Poppy said to her grandmother after giving Charles a good-natured eye roll. She then raised a knowing eyebrow at Elia. "And it'll be good if we have some privacy, okay?"

A hearty chuckle was all the reply Poppy needed before she turned and walked towards the other end of the café, where a dark wooden door was visible against the cream walls. It was just a simple door that one would've thought led to the storage of the café. At least that's what the two men trailing behind Poppy thought.

"Come on then," She said, pushing the door open and stepping in quickly.

Instead of walking into a dingy, cramped, and dark storage-cum-employee's break room where they were most likely going to spend the next hour or so talking in an uncomfortable manner, they were greeted by the sight of a fairly spacious den that was naturally lit by the sunlight flitting in through the large glass window built the chocolate brown wall.

An entire side was dedicated to two large dark-wood bookshelves that were filled with an impressive collection of books – old and new, thick and thin, black and coloured. Various other trinkets such as knitted hats and scarves, beaded necklaces, paintbrushes and stacks of papers littered the area, looking very much like an organized mess.

A couch and two worn but comfortable looking armchair sat against the wall facing the bookshelves and had various books of different topics splayed across their dark red cushion.

"Sorry, about the mess." Poppy apologized as she picked up a bunch of knitting yarn and needles, a book on astronomy and a bag of rustling beads before chucking them into a corner where a bunch of other things were. Somewhere in that corner, something akin to a bell chimed, but it was ignored by Poppy who was still trying her best to make the place as tidy as she could.

"Nice place." Charles commented as he took the offered seat on the couch (that Poppy had cleared by sweeping everything onto the floor) beside Erik.

Poppy looked up from where she had been pushing a stack off books towards the wall and turned to Charles, narrowing her eyes at him to see if he was being sarcastic. When all she could find was genuine interest and curiousity, she shrugged a shoulder and proceeded to take a seat on one of the plushy armchairs.

"My grandfather designed it." She explained, pulling the beanie off of her head and then using one hand to run it through her messy brown curls. An awkward silence fell over the three as Poppy ran her eyes over the room she had spent most of her past 8 years in.

The den had always proved to be some sort of refuge for her. In here, she could do all the things she wanted – read, paint, sleep and daydream. It was a place where she could carry out her favourite activities without the disruption of anything. Having an endless supply of her grandmother's homemade pastries and hot chocolate is and always will be a plus too.

"Anyways!" she said, snapping out of her reverie. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Mis – "

Just as Charles had opened his mouth to speak, a series of loud knocks thumped on the door impatiently.

"Hold that thought." Poppy held up a finger to him before getting up to open the door.

The sweet scent of coffee wafted into the room, followed by an old man sporting a moustache and much greyer hair than Elia as he hobbled inside slowly. In his hands, was a tray of three mugs, all filled with steaming hot chocolate that were topped with fluffy, white marshmallows. A plate of chocolate chip cookies sat beside them as a silent but comforting companion.

"Papa!" Like how she had greeted her grandmother, Poppy reached up to her grandfather's cheek and gave him a soft kiss.

"Your grandmother told me to bring in some drinks for you." Henry Cole explained, before turning his stern hazel eyes on the two men watching their exchange. "And who are these two rascals?"

Poppy cringed.

"These are my _friends_, pa." She quipped. "Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr."

In a much softer tone, she muttered. "You and Nan are a match made in heaven, really."

"No need to get snarky with me now, sweetie." Her grandfather said. For an old man, he had pretty good hearing. "I'm just looking out for you. God knows what these two would want from a pretty young lady like you."

He stopped short and narrowed his eyes at Charles and Erik once again. "Nothing good, I bet."

Poppy sighed. "I'll tell you about it when I _know_ what is it about, all right? Now shoo, go make some tarts with Nan."

"Fine, fine." Henry finally said after a moment of hesitation. As he turned to hobble out of the room, he swiveled back around and shot the two men a look. "I'm watching you two. Very closely, just so you know."

Poppy rolled her eyes at her grandfather and promptly closed the door behind her firmly. She turned back to the two blue-eyed men and carried the tray of refreshments towards the coffee table. "Sorry about that,"

"It's fine." Charles said and reached over to help her with the tray. "Lovely grandparents you've got."

Poppy smiled brightly and nodded her head before taking her seat. Her hands grabbed hold of one of the mug – the one with her name emblazoned across in big, bold red letters and accentuated with bright red Poppy flowers – and motioned for the others to pick up theirs as well.

"Go on, try it." She said, taking a slow sip. "It's my grandmother's homemade recipe."

Erik looked at her with a stony expression. "It seems we're getting nowhere with what Charles and I are truly here for."

"Oh." Poppy uttered and placed her mug down quickly, fidgeting in her seat at the look of disapproval on Erik's face. "Right. Sorry."

Silence fell over the three of them once more.

A million and one thoughts were flitting through Poppy's mind as she wracked her brain for a good way to start the conversation.

'_What are they here for?'_ She thought. _'I'm sure there's a motive somewhere; these people couldn't possibly be looking for me with no apparent reason. Wait a minute, he can read my thoughts.'_

She blanched and stole a glance at Charles, who was now looking at her in amusement and with the _'I know what you're thinking'_ look he seemed to always have hanging on his handsome face. _'Crap.'_

Charles hid a smile at the many thoughts that were jumping out at him and waited patiently for her to sort through them and start questioning hum and Erik.

"Wait, just before, you said '_We're_ like you.'" Poppy glanced up at Charles again and then turned to appraise Erik. "That includes you too."

She pointed a thin finger in Charles' direction. "I know that you can read minds."

"I'm a telepath." He offered.

"Right, a telepath." Poppy turned to Erik. "So, what can you do?"

The rugged man smirked and raised his right hand up.

Slowly, the metal tray that had been holding the drinks raised itself off of the coffee table and floated in mid-air, causing Poppy to jump back in her seat and gaped at the suspending item with her celadon eyes wide open. A resounding crack of metal could be heard as the tray started folding in on themselves. It was as though there was a pair of invisible hands, one strong enough to shape the strong material from a flat pan into a ball of crumpled steel.

Poppy watched, fascinated, as creases formed on the once shiny and smooth surface while the ball of metal tumbled in the air in front of her. Her pale pink lips were parted in awe and her green eyes glinted at the amazing display Erik was putting up.

She was mesmerized to say the least.

"Wow," She breathed as Erik slowly let what used to be a flat tray back down onto the table. Her hands reached out to pick up the metal ball and studied it intently, marveling at the fact that he could manipulate a hard material such as metal without breaking a sweat. "That's amazing."

"How about you?" Erik asked as a reply to her compliment. "We've seen you healing the little girl and _trying_ but _failing_ to manipulate Charles' mind. Are those the only things you can do?"

"I didn't _fail_. I just wasn't trying hard enough." Poppy snapped, annoyed. "I can do other stuffs too."

With that said, the room they were in blacked out almost instantly. It was as though the switch that controlled all the light around them had been switched off, and sucked into a void. Even the open window that had light streaming in seemed to have a blockade formed on it suddenly, taking away the source of light from the room. There was nothing but pure, unnerving darkness surrounding them. The temporary lost of sight that was brought on by the sudden disappearance of light was suffocating to say the least.

The lingering darkness lasted for about half a minute before it was gone in a burst of light. As quickly as the lights had gone out, the room was brightened once again, in a sudden burst of a brilliant glow that originated from where Poppy was seated. It blinded Charles and Erik temporarily at its sheer intensity, causing them to squint against the harsh brightness painfully.

Poppy had always thought her power was something akin to hope.

The illuminating ray was like the first crack of sparks you see in a sparkler that had just been lit up; like the first burst of illuminating fire against a dark night sky; like being able to see again after having left blinded for a long time.

"You're glowing..." Charles awed voice broke through the silence once he had adjusted to the surroundings and registered the brighter outline of the woman sitting before him. It was as if light had accumulated inside her and she was radiating it in soft amounts, giving her body a soft, iridescent glow.

Poppy nodded and pulled a lock of what used to be dark brown hair between her fingers. "My hair turns blonde when I use my powers too. Weird, I know."

"Remarkable." Charles breathed. His warm blue eyes never left Poppy's luminous form. "Absolutely stunning."

A pink flush crept its way up Poppy's fair neck before finding refuge in her elegant cheekbones at Charles unwavering look and brutally flattering words, even though he was most likely referring to her abilities. Charles seemed to realize his gawking as he cleared his throat and looked away from Poppy.

"How did you find me?" Poppy asked excitedly as the tingling sensation in her body trickled away and her hair darkened back to their natural shade. "Have you met others like us before? How are they like?"

She could hardly contain her excitement and the thrill that ran down her spine at the thought that she could display her powers so unreservedly without being judged and labeled as a freak. It was like coming together with old friends that you had grown apart from – like experiencing that small shred of familiarity amongst the awkwardness and lack of what to say.

_It was comforting._

Charles cracked a grin at Poppy's enthusiasm, glad that her initial guarded disposition had faded away and was now replaced by the comfort and the exuberant excitement of meeting her own kind.

"We found you with the help of our fellow mutant, Dr Ha – "

"Mutant?"

Charles halted in his words and nodded. "Yes, mutant."

He shared an amused look with Erik before turning back to Poppy and cracking a grin. "You've clearly never thought of calling yourself a mutant, have you?"

"Well, no." Poppy replied. "Mutant makes us sound genetically deformed."

"In some ways, we are." Erik piped in.

Poppy scoffed, picking her hot chocolate up again. "I prefer to call it being gifted and unique."

"The word mutant has always been misunderstood." Charles explained patiently. "Mutant, in the most technical sense of the word is an individual; organism; or new genetic character arising or resulting from mutation. We are an improvement, a step up from the normal human genes due to changes in our chromosomes. However, as a result of people's common misunderstanding, mutant hereby has a linking connotation to the words 'freak' and 'miscreation', even though the definition of the word is purely scientific."

Poppy looked at Charles in amusement. "You sound like you study the subject."

"Fresh graduate from Oxford with a distinction in my thesis for genetics and mutations." He said, the serious demeanour now gone and replaced by a slightly cockier and self-confident tone.

"Ah, I see."

Charles smirked. "Now, as I was saying. We found you, and many other mutants through the help of our friend, Dr. Hank McCoy. He built a machine – Cerebro – "

"Cerebro?" Poppy asked, frowning in confusion, as she couldn't help but interrupt Charles again. "Isn't that Spanish for brain?"

A booming, vivacious laughter bursting forth from Charles lips was her immediate reply as he chuckled, causing the sides of his blue eyes to crinkle in merriment. "That's what I said."

"So you guys used this… Cerebro, machine to locate people like us?"

"Yes. It's brilliant really, how the genes of mutants are so different from normal humans that we can actually be detected through a machine." Charles explained. "This is most likely due to the dominant mutant gene in our chro –

"_Charles."_ Erik called out loudly, cutting through the telepath's quick ramble on his knowledge about the subject.

It seemed like whenever Erik spoke, it was to bring either one of their attention back to the subject at hand. He was like an anchor between the three of them; the solid, serious and no nonsense presence that kept both Charles and Poppy grounded.

"Right, right." Charles nodded, getting the hint that he was going off-track. He cleared his throat and leant forward in his seat. "Long story short: we are tracking and recruiting mutants."

"Recruiting?" a tone of wariness seeped into Poppy's question as she regarded the two suspiciously. "For what?"

"That is what we're here to talk to you about." Charles said, sensing the sudden guarded tone in Poppy's voice. His eyes held Poppy's in an intense stare. "A war is upon us, Poppy."

"What war? You mean the one between the Soviets and the States?" She asked, now leaning back into her seat. Her mind was reeling at where the conversation was going. Charles nodded firmly. "But what has that got to do with mutants? Or me, even?"

"One of the agents at CIA discovered a plot, the spark that lit the fire line for the nuclear war." This time, it was Erik that had spoken. His soft yet gruff voice filled the room with its tough resonance. "She had gone undercover to see one of the American Colonel getting pressured into installing missiles into Turkey. That was the first step to angering the Soviets, and they are planning to retaliate. From what she had described, it had been a mutant who was threatening the Colonel."

"A mutant?" Poppy asked. "But why?"

"We have no idea as of yet." Charles offered, leaning back into his seat. It was obvious he had been troubled by the fact that a fellow mutant would want to start a war between two powerful nations.

"Who?"

The question had slipped out before she could stop herself. Poppy mentally gave herself an eye-roll at her very intelligent questions and wondered where her usual wittiness had gone.

Perhaps it had been the fact that a mutant was willing to hurt innocent people and have their kind revealed to the world that had left her stumped with one-worded questions. If the people had found out the start of a needless war was due to a mutant, the discrimination against their kind would be even harsher than before.

They were going to be marked for the actions of one man.

"Sebastian Shaw." Erik spat, the venom clear in his words. A frown was etched deep into his forehead and his eyes were glaring at the coffee table, as though willing it to break under the hatred burning in his cold blue orbs.

Poppy's head snapped up from the melting marshmallows she had been staring at upon the sound of the name. Her thoughts scattered almost immediately while an old one, a memory sprang up at the back of her head. The memory so fresh that it was as if it had only taken place yesterday. It was so fresh that she could almost smell the lavender perfume she had always loved; the thick, strange cologne that lingered in the air; the blood that had marred the polished wood floor.

_Gaunt face with those beady, blue eyes._

_Red skin. Long tail._

_A scream. A horrible, tortured scream of a woman._

_Her mother's scream._

"Sebastian Shaw?" a weird gurgle that sounded horribly like Poppy's voice reverberated though the still air.

A thunder cracked outside as the sky darkened further.

Charles and Erik shared a glance with each other at her sudden alertness and the change in her disposition as the former frowned noticeably. "Yes. Do you know him?"

"_No._" Poppy replied firmly, looking back down at her mug when she saw the cautious and suspecting looks the two men were sending her. A sudden rush of emotions gushed up to the forefront of her consciousness – thrill, excitement, determination and hatred – they flooded her senses. But one stood out above all of them.

She could almost feel the tingling of her powers tickling her on her fingertips.

"No, I don't." She looked back up again when she felt the probing gaze of Charles at her head and the sudden presence in her mind. Her green eyes glared hard at him vehemently. "And don't you dare try to probe me."

Erik narrowed his eyes at her dangerously. "If you've got nothing to hide, then why are you so afraid of Charles reading your mind?"

"I'm not afraid." Poppy gritted out as leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms across her chest quietly. She took a calming breath, knowing that getting angry with Erik would only rile him up further. "It's just rude, uncomfortable and invasive."

"It's okay," Charles cut in, smiling politely at her. "I understand that. Just a force of habit. I'm sorry."

Wanting to move on with the conversation and to get rid of the unnerving emotion she was feeling from Erik's frigid, piercing stare, Poppy turned to Charles with a wry grin.

"So that's why you're recruiting people? Like me?" She asked.

"We're planning to stop Shaw before he could escalate this conflict any further. He has got his own army of mutants to help him," Charles replied. "We need ours."

Poppy let out a low, shaky sigh in response as she slumped against the handle of her armchair. Her hand rose to run themselves through her dark, wavy locks as her eyes focused on a stain in her skirt – a stain left by one of her students, Lucy, a lively little girl who always had a tendency to spill something.

_A war. _

Two commanding nations fighting against each other with powerful, pure destructive missiles and machineries that could have blown each land into smithereens. Two nations, each with millions of citizens whose lives are held in the hands of the people that governed the country.

People whose lives are now threatened due to the selfish actions of the one man who had ruined her life.

Her mind drifted to her grandparents. Her sweet, loving grandparents; the only family she had left. They would most certainly never survive the hardships of a war. They would most certainly not be able to withstand the effects of a nuclear attack. She could never bear the thought of having them live through this at such an old age.

She thought of the little children whom she taught how to paint and write. God, these innocent, vibrant, young lives. She would never want to expose her students to that, to the horrors of war. She couldn't bear the thought of these children having to cower and be fearful of their lives; left to wonder if they would survive to see the dawn breaking the next day. They were still too young for that.

Poppy now worried for herself. She wasn't cut out to be in an army, or whatever she was supposed to do in this new mutant team that the blue-eyed men were gathering. She was just a normal (sort of) young lady with a steady job in teaching elementary children how to paint and improve their writing. She wasn't some femme fatale that was always portrayed in the film noir movies her grandmother loved watching. She didn't think she was cut out to hurt people.

But the thought of having a chance to finally get what she had wanted since she was 16 through these two men were enticing. Very, very enticing indeed.

Letting out another shaky sigh, Poppy looked up to see both Charles and Erik staring at her – one patiently and the other looking like as though he had just proven something to his friend. Clearing her throat, she fumbled with her hair once more before letting her hands fall into her lap. "I've got a job."

"We've already spoken to your headmaster about it." Charles answered, knowing what she had meant. "He's willing to grant you an indefinite period of leave from school. Or at least until the whole thing is over."

"He agreed?" Poppy balked, thinking back to the measly, overweight man who had many a times refused to grant Poppy her annual break.

Charles smiled. "The words 'government' and 'CIA' can be very convincing in situations such as these."

"He must think me to be some criminal or spy now," Poppy muttered more to herself, before scowling up at the two when she realized what they had done. "You guys move fast. What if I didn't want to join your little team?"

"You'll get your job back." Charles shrugged his shoulders. "The headmaster wouldn't even remember meeting anyone by the names of Charles Xavier or Erik Lehnsherr."

He tapped his fingers against his temple with a proud smile.

Poppy hummed in contemplation. "I can't fight."

Charles and Erik both raised their dark brows at her declaration.

"I mean, I can probably throw a mean right hook or something." She added, looking up at the two sheepishly. "But I don't think I know how to work a gun or those bombing, exploding stuffs. I'm a teacher, y'know? I'm not trained to know how to assemble a rifle."

There was a second of silence before two sets of loud, chortling deep laughter sounded through the room. Poppy watched in stunned silence as the two men before her snorted, as though what she had said was incredibly humourous.

"My dear," Charles said after getting a grip on himself. Poppy couldn't help but flush at the endearment falling from his grinning lips. "We're not asking you to join the army. We're sort of an intelligence team that's going to take down Shaw and his group with our _abilities_. That's the point of recruiting _mutants_."

"So, no guns?"

"Not unless they pull it on us first." Erik provided with a smirk. "Honestly."

Poppy frowned. "It was a valid concern, okay?"

Charles leaned forward again, holding her green eyes with his bright azure ones. "You don't have to feel inclined to join us, Poppy. Erik and I were just trying our luck."

Poppy stayed quiet. Her brows were held low over her doe eyes in serious concentration, an action that was tempting Charles to ignore her request and start probing about in her head, albeit discreetly.

Another thunder rumbled in the distance. The first droplets of rain met the surface of the glass window.

Poppy sighed again as she ran another hand through her hair as though doing that would help clear the million and five thoughts running through her head.

A beat, then, green eyes flashed. A colour so bright, so electrifying even under the dim light held Charles and Erik's blue-eyed gaze as it flickered between the two.

"I'll… I'll do it." She said with assertion clear in her soft voice. She garnered both pleased and stunned reactions from the two mutants seated before her. "I'll join you."

**...**

_'If we don't end war, war will end us.' – H. G. Wells_

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><p>Many, many, many thanks to these lovely reviewers:<p>

**PadmeKenobi, Amethyst Phoenix, Rhea Bleu, lilyoftheva5, summerinlove, Han-elujah **(hope you received my reply!), **X .xMay-Babeex. X, Haley Tran, **HuesOfGreenx, KitchenCupboard, Nelle07, actressen, BellaLestrangex01, Alice B. Cahill, snowspell ****and **juli 8D1819**

Thank you, everyone, for the support! :*


	6. Not the Average Soldier

Yes, it's finally here! I know, I know - the stupid bitch of an author actually waited 7 months to post up a new chapter.

I hate myself too. A lot. I've lost inspiration for this for a good while when a situation cropped up because my mind was so frazzled and muddled with everything that's going on around me.

However, I do hope this one's enough to appease all of you until the next one, which is still in the works. I'm a really slow writer because I read **and** re-read what I type even if all I've typed is just one line. As such, I'm looking for a beta to help rush me when I'm too slow for an update and to help me point out the mistakes in my story! Really, feel free to pm me if you're interested.

**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own any characters from the movie you recognize. What I do own is my characters and everything else regarding them._

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><p>Poppy couldn't help but feel a sharp tinge of regret as she stared up at the large, impressive building looming before her petite form.<p>

Her wild heart thumped nervously against her chest as her green eyes raked over the foreign surroundings. The grass was too green to be natural, and the cement structures were too severe, too rigid for Poppy's taste. The dark glass doors of the building looked ominous, as though entering it would put anyone in mortal danger – like entering a dragon's lair. Another swell of emotions, this time of complete and utter foolishness overwhelmed her senses, causing her to seriously doubt her decision in offering to help Charles and Erik – the two strangers that she had only come to know briefly.

Briefly, in this case, was an actual duration of less than a day.

Poppy swiveled about, hoping that the expensive sedan that had come to pick her up from her home was still there. It was her only chance to getting out of this debacle, her only chance at escaping the consequences of her reckless judgment. It had been a heat of the moment decision; one made when she felt the graveness of the situation and was struck with a naïve inclination to give a hand to the two men – the first two of her own kind she has ever acknowledged – albeit impulsively.

She had been too rash.

War was a major matter, and millions of lives were at stake. She couldn't believe she had agreed to join their team – or Division X as Charles had dubbed it, so readily. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought it through carefully before extending a helping hand.

Furthermore, Poppy had only known of their existence for the whole of a day and a half, where she had spent most of it thinking that the two men were actually a figment of her imagination.

She was almost certain her stressed induced craziness had conjured the two men up, until she cast her green eyes upon the ball of metal that was once a flat serving pan.

Following the two mutant men's departure from the café, leaving her with nothing but the time at which a car would be sent to pick her up and another word of gratitude – from Charles, quite obviously – Poppy was then stuck with the dilemma as to how she was going to sit her grandparents down and tell them all that had transpired.

It had been one of the hardest conversations and arguments she has ever had with her grandparents, and that was saying something, for the Cole household rarely had any disputes within their tight knitted family. The last major altercation between them was due to the alleyway incident when Poppy was eighteen and that had only been an hour long nagging session from her worried grandmother, another twenty minutes spent making her feel guilty and foolish by her grandfather's brusque 'What ifs' rant, followed by another hour of her telling her guardians about her new power.

She sighed, once again, as her thoughts drifted back to their conversation last evening.

"_No."_

_The cold resounding order of plain, raw opposition echoed through the empty café, as it seemed to fill the entire place. Ella Fitzgerald's rich vocals floated in the tensed air at a soft but audible volume, creating a stark contrast to the strained conversation_

"_But Nana – "_

"_No means no, Poppy."_

"_I haven't even told you the whole story yet!" Poppy bit back, annoyed that her grandmother was giving her such a definite non-consent so quickly. She had yet to tell her the entire situation and already, she was saying no._

_Elia Cole stared down at her granddaughter with calculating dark eyes. A deep frown was etched into her tanned, weathered forehead. "I do not need to know the whole story to say no, Poppy."_

_There was a few seconds of tensed silence between the two women, leaving the only man, Henry, to his own thoughts._

"_You know why I agreed to this, Nana." Poppy explained with a defeated sigh. Her hands reached up to rub at her eyes tiredly as she thought of a valid reason to win her grandmother over. "You know why I had to do this."_

"_I do, and that's why I'm not letting you." Elia Cole rebutted. Her dark eyes were stormy and her wrinkled lips were pursed tightly. "You're going to get yourself killed in whatever these… these two _sciagurato_ strangers are telling you to get into."_

_Poppy bristled. "They're not wretched, Nan. They're people like me. You wouldn't call me wretched now, would you?"_

"_Poppy…" Henry Cole, who had hung back and let the two women have their squabble, finally spoke up. His raspy voice was one of warning, one that was reminding his granddaughter not to get his wife anymore riled up than she already was._

_The young woman sighed once more and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Either way, I'm going. I've already agreed and I can't very well go back on my words."_

"_Oh really?" Elia gritted out. "Then I'll just have to look these two men up and back them out for you."_

"_Nana." Poppy was tired. She had known her grandmother was going to be difficult about the whole matter, but this? This was just ridiculous._

"_I'm twenty-four, for God's sake!" She cried, finally reaching the end of her patience. "I can make my own decisions! You have to stop treating me like the lost 16 year old I __**was**__, Nan. I've grown up. I can take care of myself!"_

_Henry Cole frowned. "Don't raise your voice at your grandmother, missy."_

_The young woman ignored him as she stared down at her portly grandmother defiantly._

"_The war is no place for a lady like you, Poppy!" Her grandmother snapped. "Especially one regarding _him_. You know how ruthless he is, dear. You're only going to get yourself killed."_

_Elia huffed. "And God forbid I lose anymore family at the hands of people like him."_

"_**I'm**__ like him, Nana!" Poppy rebutted. "And he is going to be stopped by the same group of people with special abilities like him; like me. We're trying to prevent a war from breaking out. I'm trying to help. Help them. Help us."_

"_You can help me by staying at home where I know you're going to be safe and sound."_

"_I have to do this." Poppy's defiant and determined whisper broke the short silence as she ignored her grandmother's reply blatantly. "I __**need**__ to do this."_

_Instead of getting angrier at her granddaughter's incredibly stubborn and headstrong nature, Elia Cole was resigned. Her dark stormy eyes turned mournful and defeated and shining with unshed tears, as she looked up into Poppy's green eyes._

"_It's not just about the war, isn't it?"_

_Poppy stayed silently as her eyes stared down at her hands._

"_Isn't it time to move on already?" Elia whispered, her voice so sorrowful, so plaintive it sent a heart-wrenching lurch through the young woman's soul. "It has been eight years, Poppy. It's time to let it go and move on with your life. You've got a bright future ahead of you. Don't let it go to waste because of hatred. What happened to your parents were unfortunate and it was a very cruel twist of fate, sweetheart. But that's just it. You can't keep harbouring on the past."_

_The young woman's head looked up from her lap slowly as the colour drained from her flushed face and her lips were pressed taut against each other._

"_**No.**__" _

_The same word uttered by Elia before was now repeated by Poppy. Thick, unwavering hatred and firm determination were entwined into the two letters. Gone was the young woman who had been begging for her grandmother's consent moments before. Green eyes that had been beseeching were now glaring into sad, dark orbs as an angry flushed grew evident on Poppy's porcelain cheeks. Her hands were clenched tight in her lap, causing her skin to stretch white over her knuckles._

"_It wasn't just an __**unfortunate**__ event, grandmother. Nor was it a cruel twist of fate. It was intentional. And it ruined my life. It ruined_ _**your**__ lives! How can you possibly ask me to move on? I can't." She spat. "And I won't. At least not until –"_

_Poppy closed her eyes and took in a deep breath when she registered the look of hurt carved deep into her grandmother's pained face at her spiteful words. The onslaught of fresh tears pricked at her eye, causing her nose to sting painfully._

"_Just because I haven't brought it up in the past six years doesn't mean I've forgotten about it. I've never forgotten about it." She said, her voice now returning to their soft, dulcet tone. "And I don't think I ever will."_

_There was a beat of short tensed silence, then – _

"_Let her go, dear." Henry finally said, leaning back in his chair with a troubled frown. _

"_What?" The old lady turned to her husband, flabbergasted. She had expected her husband to support her, to understand where she was coming from with her vehement protests, and yet, here he was, encouraging their reckless granddaughter with her impulsive choices._

"_She needs the closure, Elia." He explained patiently. "If this is the only way for her to come to terms with everything, we have to let her go. She has to do this on her own. Forbidding her would only prolong the pain and we won't be doing her any good."_

_Poppy's teary eyes shone with extreme gratitude for her grandfather at his understanding. Whilst she loved her grandmother for her years of unwavering care and concern, she had always been closer to her 'Papa'. Henry knew his granddaughter like the back of his hand and the coffee he had been making since the start of time, and he had always been her loyal silent supporter during her arguments with her grandmother._

"_But… But war, Henry?" Elia sputtered. "It's no place for her."_

"_Misery and hatred is not a good place for her too." He replied softly. _

_Poppy turned to Elia and nodded firmly before reaching up to wipe away a wayward tear. "I promise I'll be safe, Nana. Cross my heart and promise."_

_Her fingers mimed the cross above where her heart lies, like she always does when she swore to her grandmother about something._

_Silence grew thick between the three as Elia looked down at her abandoned cup of tea. _

"_Fine." Elia sighed in defeat, acknowledging the fact that she was fighting a losing battle alone now. "Fine. Do whatever you want with your life."_

_She pushed herself off of the chair and started gathering the abandoned dishes around the café. "But the minute you think you can't take it anymore, I want you to come home straight away. I don't care if you have to walk the whole nine miles if no one wants to offer you a ride. I just want you back home with us. You got me?"_

_Poppy nodded, reaching out to pat her grandmother's withered hand reassuringly. _

"_I promise."_

And now, as she stood in front of the building's steps, her grandmother had been right once again, as stern her voice rang out in her head.

_This was no place for her._

For starters, she had yet to even step foot into the foreign building and already there were multitudes of men (and a selectively few women) clad in professional looking dark suits walking all about her. She had felt immensely out of place in her powder blue day dress, and felt very much like a stain on an otherwise white and immaculately clean blouse.

Secondly, everyone around her was striding forward confidently with their destinations clear in mind, and yet there she was, one lone blue figure standing out among the sea of dark suits, trying to figure out where she was supposed to go.

And where were the two men that had pulled her into this predicament? Shouldn't they have been waiting for Poppy's arrival? Waiting to provide her with some directional guidance?

Her teeth gnawed hard at her pale pink lips as the grip on her brown leather bag tightened. Her other hand reached up to fumble with her chestnut locks self-consciously before sliding back into the pocket of her dress, where it sought solace in the one object sitting inside – the one thing she had deemed too unsafe to leave in her bag, where she could lose it anytime. _Things were always safer when it's on you_ – that had always been Poppy's motto, for she had a tendency to misplace her belongings.

Her fingers moved over the object's intricate grooves and carvings, feeling a sense of comfort and assurance wash over her. It blanketed the self-doubt, foolishness and apprehension just that slightly, giving her enough peace to take a deep breath and remind herself again why she was where she was. Swiftly, she threw her consternations off of her mind and allowed that one thought to push through all the other negative emotions to the forefront of her mind.

"Everything's going to be just fine." She assured herself quietly as she started her walk towards the dark glass doors of the daunting building. "I am going to be alright."

Her black-strapped flats padded rhythmically on the grey concrete floor as the entrance loomed nearer and nearer, until she was standing right before it. The people around her were stealing secret glances at her that were not as subtle as they hoped it would have been for Poppy had noticed the looks. She shifted uncomfortably, wondering if their gawking was due to the fact that somehow, they knew what she was or the fact that she looked like she was going for an afternoon picnic at the park instead of joining the new division CIA had formed.

She felt exposed under their scrutinizing stares.

Ignoring the looks and taking a deep breath, Poppy motioned to push open the door so they she could seek refuge in the building and away from the prying eyes of others. Fate, however, seemed to have other things in mind for Poppy, as another force (a much bigger one), pushed from the other side of the glass quickly, overtaking her feeble attempt.

In a split second, she had found herself sprawled on her back, staring up at the ceiling of the entrance with her bag strewn a few feet away from her. Fortunately none of her personal belongings spilled out for the clasp on her bag was strong enough such that it still remained snapped shut on impact. Her sore bottom yelled out in pained protests while her wide green eyes blinked profusely at the sudden turn of events.

From somewhere above her, a familiar voice cursed out loudly. Then, a fair, muscled hand was stretched out in front of her face, causing her to gasp at the sudden action.

"Oh dear god, I am so, so sorry!" Charles apologized frantically as Poppy took his hand and allowed him to pull her up from the ground. His worried blue eyes raked over her form quickly for any injury he might have caused. "Are you hurt, love?"

Poppy blushed at the typical English endearment that had fallen from his lips like second nature and quickly looked down to fidget with her dress before shaking her head. "I'm fine."

"I am _so_ terribly sorry." Charles apologized once again and bent to pick up Poppy's bag. His lips were quirked into a small sheepish smile that showed a tiny glint of his pearly teeth.

He was dressed similarly as he had been when Poppy had seen him just yesterday. Clad in a dark navy blazer, a pair of ironed black pants and a crisp blue shirt with its top buttons undone, Charles looked every part the Oxford graduate he is.

"Here I was thinking this place can't be as hazardous as it looks and then you had to come slamming the door in my face." Poppy replied with a quiet chuckle as she motioned to take her belongings from him. Charles shook his head and continued holding her bag as he flushed at her words and offered yet another sincere apology.

"I guess my excitement got the better of me when I saw you standing on the other side." He explained as he pushed open the glass door again and led them down a quiet hallway.

Poppy was wrong when she had thought the inside of the building would have been less rigid as compared to the exterior. Like the design of the Division on the outside, the interior was covered in grey granite slabs – on the ceiling, the walls and the floor.

"I was never sure you would have showed up." Charles confessed as they rounded a bend, noticing Poppy's silence. "You have no idea how _pleased_ I am to see you."

Poppy turned to regard the blue-eyed man striding beside her and raised a dark brow at him in question. "You thought I would've stood you up?"

"A clear misjudgment on my part," Charles replied, smiling at her as he pushed the large cream door open. There was another long grey hallway, except this time, it was wider and there were two doors on each side of the wall.

"Where are we going?" Poppy's words were tinged with just that little bit of uncertainty. The rigid surroundings were making her uncomfortable and she felt like she was heading down the cold, unfeeling hallway to her prison cell.

"Your humble abode for the stay." Charles replied and moved to open the door that was nearest to the entrance on the other end of the hallway. He turned to Poppy and stretched a hand into the entrance. "Ladies first."

The young woman shot the telepath an amused look in which he replied with a cheeky grin and a small nod of his head towards the open door. He then reached to the side of the door and flipped the light switch on, causing the round ceiling light to flicker once and then brightened rapidly.

Poppy looked in from the doorway before taking slow steps into the room. Her brow rose in slight surprise at the atmosphere of where she was going to stay as she took in the sights.

As compared to the rigid and severe design the entire building had been going for, these personal dormitories were much warmer and more welcoming. The walls were painted a light brown colour and there was actually a large glass window fitted with a set of brown chiffon curtains. Poppy had actually been expecting a creaky wire-frame single bed sitting against the wall, instead, she was looking at a cozy and comfortable queen size bed fitted with light apple green colour sheets and accompanied by two fluffy white pillows. A mahogany table was sat on the opposite wall of where the bed was, while a similarly coloured closet was placed at the corner of the room.

"So?" Charles asked, quirking an eyebrow at the quiet elementary teacher after setting her bag onto the dark wood study table. "If you don't like it, I can obtain another room for you."

"Oh no. No. It's fine." She answered, turning to him with a small smile. "It's nice and uh – homey."

"Homey?"

She hummed in reply and nodded. "Well, I was expecting something along the lines of a creaky metal bed, scratchy fleece bed sheets and a hole in the ground for a toilet. So yeah, this is pretty nice."

Charles let out a low chuckle. "We aren't holding you in custody or anything, Poppy."

"Could have fooled me." Poppy said, shrugging her shoulders and fiddled with the object in her pocket once again. "It matches the design of the building, don't you agree?"

"Why yes," Charles replied. "This place does seem a bit cold and dreary, doesn't it?"

Poppy cracked a smile and nodded before turning to Charles. "So, what next?"

"Meeting the rest of this motley crew,"

He then ushered her out of the room and back into the cold hallway, closing the door of her room behind them.

"How many are there?" Poppy asked as they strode towards the exit at the end.

Charles ran a hand through his dark hair, which messed it up further (but Poppy thought it looked rather nice on him) before pushing the door open. "We've recruited six so far, with the exclusion of Erik and I."

He turned to Poppy with a cheeky grin. "You're the lucky seventh."

"There's only nine of us altogether?" voiced Poppy worriedly. "I thought you guys were recruiting an _army_?"

"Yes, well," Charles said, shrugging his shoulders with a light smile. "The seven of you were the only ones who did not slam the doors in our faces, attempt to chase us away with brooms or threatened to call the cops on us."

"How many did you approach?" asked Poppy.

"Oh, you know, somewhere between the numbers fifty to a hundred."

"A hund – what?"

Charles chuckled. "I was just kidding. Cerebro only allowed us to search for mutants within the range of this state. Having said that, we also have to omit about half of them due to their ages.

"All in all, we visited about thirty potentials over the course of three days." He explained.

Poppy remained silent beside him as she worried over the fact that there were just nine of them against the armies from two commanding countries and a crazed power-hungry mutant. Their newly formed group was like a lost case that was waiting to blow up in their faces and leave them with nothing but eternal shame and embarrassment.

"I suppose the numbers _are_ a little disparaging, but we're not exactly the average soldiers now, are we?"

"Did you just read my mind?" Poppy asked with a small frown as she inched away from Charles at his quiet encouragement.

The telepath nodded sheepishly. His bright cerulean eyes shone with mild embarrassment and apology as he looked to the woman beside him.

"I'm sorry," He said, "It's just – you were thinking too loudly and there's only the two of us here, so your thought's sort of amplified,"

Poppy nodded curtly at his explanation and forced the small amount of worry at having her thoughts read at the remorse in his eyes and words. "It's never quiet around you, is it?"

"I'm used to it." Charles replied with another nonchalant shrug. "I've taught myself how to shut out the people around me, but sometimes, those blocks slip up."

The two of them were now in a large open spaced courtyard; which was decorated with those neatly-trimmed evergreen hedges Poppy had seen on the outside of the precinct. A group of people was gathered in what looked to be a recreational room, opposite them as she peered through the large glass window.

"Are those… _them_?" Poppy turned to see Charles nodding his head. Her eyes then moved back over to the group's collective ages. "They look awfully young."

"_Most_ of them are younger than you." The telepath replied as they made their way towards the small door at the side. "There's one who's older than you by a year or so

The young woman narrowed her eyes at the man walking beside her. "How do you know my age?"

"It's the CIA we're talking about." Charles shrugged, as though that in itself, was an answer sufficient enough to quench her annoyance.

'_Of course',_ Poppy grumbled silently. _'I bet they've even gotten my favourite food and daily schedule down in detail.'_

The two reached the door when Charles held out a hand to halt Poppy in her steps.

"Just to let you know, Erik and I will be leaving for Russia this afternoon, so I'll need you to help me with looking after the rest of the team."

"What?" Poppy blanched.

Elementary kids she could handle, but kids older than the age of 15? Not to mention kids older than the age of 15 _with _mutant powers. Quite simply put, Poppy knew she was going to suck at it. "But – I don't know any of them!"

"You'll be fine." Charles chuckled, patting Poppy on her shoulder lightly in hopes of reassuring her fears. His blue eyes twinkled in mirth at the sight of her flustered expression and the gnawing of her pale pink lips.

"Why are you going to Russia anyways?" Poppy cringed at the rudeness in her question before adding hastily. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

"We've received intelligence that Sebastian Shaw will be paying a visit to a Russian general later in the day, so CIA's assembled a group to see if we could apprehend him before the pending war has a chance to happen." Charles replied.

"Oh." She replied, looking as though she had something to say. "Can I – I mean, I want to come along."

"What? No!"

Poppy's wide green eyes shot up to the telepath at his vehement outburst for a reply and for a split second, her mind flashed back to her grandmother. Her right hand crept back into the pocket of her dress as she sought the same object out again.

"Why not?" She asked, quirking a dark brow defiantly. "The point of you guys recruiting us is to seek Shaw out and capture him, isn't it?"

"Well, yes… but – "

"Exactly!" Poppy interrupted, not giving Charles a chance to give her a proper answer. "So then, why not?"

"Because you guys are not fully trained yet. We'll be invading the territory of our potential opposition with a group of armed military soldiers; men that knew what to do and how to react should anything go wrong." Charles said, folding his arms across his chest. "Besides, haven't you told us you have absolutely no idea how to assemble a rifle? I assume machine guns are exceptionally helpful in stealth missions such as this."

"I don't suppose _you _know how to put a weapon together then?" Poppy challenged obstinately.

"Oh, you'll be surprised." Charles said. An amused smirk tugged at the corners of his lips at her pursed lips.

A moment of silence hung over the two as green eyes stared defiantly into blue. Poppy had hoped that somehow, miraculously, Charles would agree to let her tag along. She had half the mind to use her power, but recalled what had happened when she did and the telepath had found out. It would seem awfully rude of her to abuse her powers like that and Poppy nearly flushed at the thought.

Sighing, Poppy looked away and towards the large glass window where she thought she had seen someone staring out at them. "So, what? We're just going to stay in this place and play card games until you guys are back?"

"Yes." Charles nodded curtly before a cheeky grin appeared in an attempt to alleviate the sternness of his reply. "I've heard that one of the young ones is rather skilled in the world of poker."

With that, he turned away from Poppy stepped into the room, leaving her behind with her own thoughts and frustrations. The lighthearted guitar riffs of the latest hit by the British pop band, The Beatles, floated out the door, mingling with the sound of quiet chatters from the occupants of the room.

Taking a deep breath, Poppy held the object tightly once more before pulling her hand out of her pocket. Her feet carried her body forwards as she followed Charles into the room quietly.

The room was a large and slightly irregular square box with walls that were given a wash of cream paint. Two large glass windows were placed on either side of the room as bright natural light flitted through them and gave the space a light, airy atmosphere. Poppy's brows quirked up at the sight of a bar table on the other side of the room where rows of drinks – with some alcoholic beers and wines, she noted – were arranged neatly in their various shelves.

It was like a recreational room, with its casual setting, the large comfortable looking couches and the jukebox and pinball machines. Her brows quirked up once more. This was more like a luxurious hotel suite than a central intelligence unit area.

"Everyone," Charles' voice boomed across the room, causing her to snap her attention back to him. Poppy noticed that the chattering and the music had ceased, leaving the room in a relatively heavy silence.

"This is the last recruit of our team, Poppy." Charles said, turning towards the brunette with a reassuring smile. Poppy wondered if he could somehow sense her insecurity with his telepathic powers.

Poppy offered a meek greeting and a small wave of her hand as six pairs of eyes bored into her form in varying range of emotions. Some, such as the pretty blonde haired girl, glared up at her in guarded suspicion, while others eyed her with mild distrust. There was one, however, who regarded her presence _somewhat _positively with a cheeky waggle of his eyebrows, even though that only served to make Poppy feel even more uncomfortable about the whole situation.

"Poppy, these are your new teammates." With that, Charles proceeded to ramble off the names of the various members of the Division as Poppy tried to catch on with him. The only names she could make out through her fuzzy mind and the quick introduction were Raven and Darwin, both for the unique nature of their names.

"Now, Erik, Moira and I would be setting off on a short trip to Russia later, so please, for God's sake, behave yourselves and try not to blow up another statue or window." Charles said; eyeing each and every one of the six meaningfully as some looked away in obvious embarrassment. Even the young redhead that had eyebrow-regarded Poppy inappropriately began to fidget in his spot uncomfortably.

"Charles – "

"Not now, Raven." He snapped in reply at the blonde hair girl's pleading call.

Poppy looked between the two in confusion. Charles' disposition upon hearing Raven speak, was now worlds apart from the friendly man that had been talking to her just moments before. Here, he was staring at her with a look of warning and what looked to be mild disappointment and unhappiness.

Raven, on the other hand, was frowning up at the telepath with an expression akin to that of a wounded puppy who was denied playtime from her owner.

"Charles."

This time, the call came from the open door of the room. Poppy turned towards the owner of the familiar baritone growl and attempted a small smile in his direction, all in a friendly nature of greeting.

However, all she got back in return was a steely blue glaze and a blank expression before Erik turned back towards Charles with a motion of his head out the door. "It's time to go,"

'_What an unfriendly man,'_ Poppy thought as she watched her unofficial guardian leave with his surly friend after bidding a quick goodbye to the occupants of the room. Her green eyes watched as Erik cast one last blank stare at her before closing the door with a loud slam, leaving her to acclimate with the group of strangers, who were now turning back to look at her awkwardly.

"So!" The redhead boy – was it Shane? John? Poppy couldn't remember – piped up, breaking the slightly awkward silence with his cheery voice. "Who's up for a game of Poker?"

* * *

><p>Special thanks and love to:<p>

**Aeleita, avellana16, -Babyeex.X, Saku-CHan.x, snowspell, moneyinthebank, PadmeKenobi, Amethyst Phoenix, OWLSCRATCH, HuesOfGreenx, KitchenCupboard, RedHotChillySteppers2008, Gio, LexVictoriaX, .roseXx, Gelly-B, Obscure Stranger, steel-alchemist, fathx, .Muscade, lenie954, Night-Weaver369 **and last but not the least,** Fishy Rainboots**.

Many thanks to all you wonderful people who faved and subscribed to this story too!They're really what keeps me going. I do love me some constructive advices (I can take it, I'm a big girl now hehe) but if you just wanna say hello or anything at all, just drop me a review or a pm :)

xoxo,

skeletalshock


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